Did the Bright Man blaze with starshine or corpsefire? Did glory or terror shut my Zechariah's mouth? Can this haunt-eyed haint be the man with whom I grew well-stricken in years? After all those years, why does my monthly blood flow again?
So many questions. Yet in the night as our bodies cleave and his silent mouth meets mine, they fall away. My barren belly has swollen, and I have my answer. It is a sweet sword that heals even as it pierces.
And beholding my young cousin, her virgin stomach rounding, I know it will pierce more than me.
Postscript: If the above widget is giving you trouble, visit ISLF's Soundcloud page or consider subscribing to the podcast to listen to audio recordings of this and other stories.